Stitching to Save 9
by ElrodAlbino
Summary: A stranger with a plan shows up to enact changes to Harry Potter's world. Set during the Third Task. Time-Travel fic. Questions asked in reviews will be answered (eventually)
1. Chapter 1

Why Save only 9?

The characters and setting used in this story are not owned by me. Only the arrangement of ideas is.

* * *

This is a completed story in three parts. I will post one part every other day, and reply to the questions I get in reviews in the following part. Enjoy!

* * *

This story starts when a young girl with bushy brown hair is carefully peering around the corner of an old Scottish castle with a hand mirror. She has a tightly scrunched piece of paper clenched in her fist, and is accompanied by a slightly older girl, who is looking in the same mirror. What they see in that mirror changes their lives, but it is not these two upon which this story focuses.

Instead, in the long-term care ward of Newgate General Hospital, off the coast of the North Sea, lies a man in a coma. He has been there for several years now, and is a mystery. His fingerprints are not in any database, though as much can be said of many upstanding citizens. He was found without any identification, and thus he is referred to by the staff as Jon Doe V.

At the precise moment that Hermione Granger and Penelope Clearwater are petrified by the basilisk, Jon Doe V wakes up.

A cacophony of alarms and mechanical noises go off, rousing all sorts of attention. Jon Doe himself opens his eyes, as the monitors attached to him show active brainwaves for the first time in almost half a decade. He squints against the light, and feels the aches and pains of long term muscle degeneration and bedsores, but breaks into a strange smile.

"Well," he croaks with a voice rusty from disuse, "this is different."

* * *

It is May now, and Jon Doe V is doing well. He claimed amnesia, not an unexpected side effect of a long coma, but it was still disappointing to the staff. They were pleased and amazed at how quickly he recovered, seeing his rapid weight gain and healing as almost miraculous. Several papers were started on his recovery, but the doctors involved got side-tracked, or lost their notes, so nothing really became of them.

Jon has decided on the name Joshua West, a seemingly common name, thought he smiles when he says it, as though it has some significance. While not about to run any marathons, he's back on his feet and ready to leave. The government has come along and issued him identification of the right sort so he can go about existing in England of 1993. The hospital staff passed the hat and have raised one thousand pounds as something to start him off, for which he is very grateful.

Handshakes are offered all around to the staff who come to see Mr. West off, and he promises to come and visit, or to phone and let them know he is well. He waves as he walks away, but no sooner is he out of sight then he ducks down an alley, checks to make sure he is unobserved, turn on his heel and vanishes. The temptation to remain in Newgate is high, but right now, Mr. West knows that to avoid problems, he has to avoid the English coast near the North Sea, and Surrey as well, or he won't be able to resist temptation. Besides, he has business to attend to.

* * *

August finds Mr. West living comfortably in a flat in Kent. He's started to acquire a reputation as a canny investor from those few who know him, though some of picks inevitably fail, allowing him to make money, but not to be investigated for fraud or insider trading. He's sold off his shares of Starbucks following the split, knowing that the future coffee giant won't be making significant jumps in the market until July of 1995. Joshua West needs serious capital before then, so he ditched it, took the money and has put it into a variety of other short-term projects. He plays the ponies, losing more frequently than winning, but still walking off with more than he started. He knows that Australia will be winning the Ashes this year, and the next, so, as much as it breaks his heart, he unpatriotically bet against England.

As a matter of fact, Joshua West knows the outcome to most of the major sporting events for the next four years. He doesn't advertise this fact, and when betting, is just as likely to bet on the loser. Because having a reputation for being lucky sometimes is much better than being thought of as a seer. Besides, Joshua West hates divination, and couldn't stand being associated with it.

Joshua knows that Harry Potter is currently making his way to the Leaky Cauldron after inflating his aunt Marge. As tempted as he is to casually bump into the young man, he instead makes his way to Scotland, near one of the few castles that has no tourists visit, to find a very specific cave, which he spends several hours making livable, including leaving several large furs poorly hidden behind a pile of rocks, and carving runes to attract small animals such as rabbits once a magical core is near enough to passively charge it. Sighing, and wishing he could do more, Joshua vanishes to see if the BBC has anything worth watching.

* * *

It is January, and the New Year means it's time for Joshua to take the next step of his plan. He visited Newgate General Hospital over Christmas and gave them a generous donation to show he was doing well, but from that touching scene he is now somewhere in the Transdanubian mountain range, warming himself by the fire in the extremely remote cabin of Katalin Gregorovitch. Cast out of her family for some reason he's never managed to figure out, Katalin is nonetheless an extremely talented wand crafter, and most importantly, she takes custom orders for those who make their way to her, and have the means to pay. Joshua smiled at the irony of a Chimera scale core, though raised his eyebrow at the Ash wand. He fails to comment, having learned to trush professionals with their work. Once he has his wand, he has an errand further into the former Soviet Block that he refuses to do unarmed, but will certainly make things easier in about a year.

Once the elderly wandcrafter is finished, he thanks her and goes along his way, leaving behind two shrunken cases. The first filled with exotic foods under preservation runes, and the second one hundred wooden blocks from trees all across Europe.

* * *

Lurking around a graveyard in northern England in February is not considered to be good for one's health, but that is exactly what Joshua West was doing. He spent a great deal of time closing his eyes and concentrating, and a much smaller amount of time transfiguring parts of gravestones into water, and then banishing the water. He ended up with about three dozen holes roughly the size of a shoebox in various grave markers, all radiating from a central point. That central point happened to be next to the grave he had defiled, digging it up, banishing the bones, and replacing them with those of an orangutan that had died of natural causes a few months back. He had purchased the ape bones though a series of cut-outs, greatly increasing the price, but he felt confidentiality was key. He reburied the casket, and covered the grave, making sure that it appeared exactly as before. Hiding the holes he had made with thin sheets of rock, he apparated away, leaving the freshly replaced grave of Thomas Riddle behind.

* * *

June had rolled around again, leaving Joshua fretting with inaction. He longed to be in Scotland, if not helping, at least ensuring that his help was not needed, but feared changing things to the point he could no longer predict what was to happen. So he waited, and wrote and re-wrote a letter to the man he wanted to hire as his solicitor. He had achieved the perfect level of intriguing and straightforward in the letter three drafts ago, but was dithering about to stay busy. He knew not only what was going on now, but what would happen in a years time, and how important it was. Later, he would be calm, but for now, he sat down to try and explain why he needed a barrister with a very boring voice, and a manner of speech that could send a sugared-up five year old to sleep.

* * *

The 1994 Quidditch World Cup. An event Joshua avoided like the plague. He knew what would happen, and knew that he wouldn't be able to resist interfering, and that doing so would make it impossible to predict what would happen after. Instead, he was back near the North Sea. After a visit with his friends in Newgate, he made sure he had his well-hidden and well-secured packages, before taking a speedboat far off the coast on a dangerous and deadly errand. Several hours later he returned, packages gone, but with almost a dozen signed scrolls in his possession.

* * *

It's amazing what a Wizard can learn from a stage magician. Sleight of hand, misdirection, picking locks, all fun stuff. Joshua had started taking lessons once he'd built up a cash reserve, and he put it to good use this September 1st at King's Cross station. A paid distraction allowed him to quickly enter and change a few things in the trunks of a pair of teenagers, hopefully for the better. He was off and long gone by the time they looked back at their luggage, and neither of them noticed the changes until they were unpacking at Hogwarts. The dark-haired boy was puzzled by the books he found, but he decided to read them anyhow, after checking them for spells, and the red-head was elated that his horrible formal robes had somehow changed into a sharp, well-cut set in a conservative black.

* * *

Joshua West fell in with crowd leaving after the first task of the Tri-Wizard tournament. No-one had noticed him creeping around Hogwarts, their eyes riveted to the champions and their dragons. It hadn't taken him long to get to the seventh floor, and find the two things there that he needed, before sneaking back out. An invisibility cloak had kept the portraits from catching him, and evading Filtch and Mrs. Norris was simplicity itself. Once he got home, though, he'd need a fortifying drink. Sneaking around in Dumbledore's domain was still nerve-wracking.

* * *

The second task was in full swing as Mr. West lugged a heavy wheelbarrow supporting a massive block of spell-resistant iron down a decrepit old street. He stopped in front of one particularly disreputable house and sighed, looking at the steep incline. Several minutes later, he sat down on the front steps, exhausted from dragging his barrow. He waited a few moments to recover his breath, before knocking a complex pattern on the door. A shimmer went through the air as the door opened, revealing a small, evil looking thing scowling at him. Joshua spoke one sentence, causing a look of shock to come over the creature's face, before it popped off, returning a moment later with a gaudy necklace. Joshua gestured to the makeshift oven, and opened the top door to let the necklace get dropped in. He took a deep breath, and cast a single, though dangerous spell through the small hole in the top. The flames that sought escape took the shape of monsters of all sorts, but after a few minutes there was a very muffled scream, and evil-looking smoke escaped the top. Joshua allowed the flames to die out, and was immediately assaulted by a deranged house-elf hugging his leg. He gently pried the creature off, before extracting an oath of secrecy, and taking his leave. The house elf looked at the huge block of metal left behind before shrugging and levitating the barrow carrying it around back to hide it behind the shed. Just goes to show that even the most rational of Wizards can overlook the obvious.

* * *

The Easter gathering of the Wizengamot was the most poorly attended, since by long tradition people spent the time with their families. Even the Chief Warlock was absent; spending his time making sure all was in readiness for the Third task. In fact, there were five old hardliners, two junior members, an auror, and the court clerk in attendance when Amarion Dewy took the floor, with a distressingly large stack of paperwork. No one was all that eager to pay attention, as without quorum, no laws could be passed, or votes taken, but many families used this time to get boring procedural paperwork signed. Mr. Dewy was particularly disliked at this time, since he spoke in a complete monotone, and had won several court cases simply by refusing to stop speaking until the prosecution dropped the charges out of desperation to escape from the mind-numbing boredom. He was in fine form today, going over family business from the Havershams relating to wool production. Even the Welsh can only listen to someone talk about sheep for so long before passing out as their brains shut down in self-defense.

Noticing that his audience was completely out of it, he surreptitiously switched to a very special folder, and continued onwards in his monotone, not missing a beat. When he finished, the clerk and duty auror signed the documents without reading them, not realizing that in the middle of the pile was a very interesting set of papers that had just been made official, and would cause no end of trouble in the reasonably close future.

* * *

At Hogwarts, the final preparations were being made for the start of the Third task. In his parlor, Joshua West snapped his pocket watch shut and stood up with a grin.

"Showtime."


	2. Chapter 2

Why Save Only 9? Part II

The characters and settings mentioned in this story are not mine. I own only the arrangement of ideas.

* * *

Dumbledore carefully schooled his expression to one of sorrow, but with determination underneath. The emergency gathering of the Wizengamot, called the day after the Third task of the Tri-wizard tournament, was his chance to finally get his hands on the Potter family vaults. The gold in them wasn't why he was interested, though it wouldn't hurt. The artifacts, dating back to before the time of the founders, they were the real treasure. The Grimoires and the knowledge that they contained would allow him to take care of Tom for once and for all, and allow him to rejuvenate himself as well, giving him another century or two of life.

He'd tried to gain access as Harry Potter's magical guardian, but the goblins stonewalled him. Not out of any loyalty to the Potters, no, but because they enjoyed the suffering of Wizards. They said that until the will was unsealed, the main vault stayed shut, save for the refilling of the trust vault. Dumbledore then tried to drain the trust vault, and was told that it was only for school, and therefore wouldn't be available until Harry Potter turned 11.

"But what about accommodations and upkeep? Surely there must be some provisos for that?" he'd beseeched them.

"I'm sure there are. In the will. Unseal it and we can check." The goblins smirked back.

He'd left with as much decorum as he'd been able to muster, and had stopped trying to get access to the vault at the time, but now, thanks to a will signed under his authority as Harry's magical guardian, he was about to get everything he wanted.

He took a moment to calm himself, pushing such thoughts from his mind. He needed to present a somber façade to the Wizengamot, because they could cause a great deal of trouble for him if they suspected foul play. Luckily, he could honestly attest that he had no hand in the death of Harry Potter. Oh, he knew moments after seeing him that the Alastor Moody who had arrived during the sorting feast was an imposter, but seeing as his plans didn't interfere with Dumbledore's own, he allowed him to go about, and send poor Harry and Cedric off to their dooms. A shame about the Diggory boy, good pureblood stock, but sacrifices must be made and all that.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the doors and entered into the Wizengamot chambers. The normal noise and hubbub was subdued, and he immediately noticed that a significant portion of the darker element was missing. He frowned at this, puzzled by their absence. This was a mandatory emergency meeting, and there were severe penalties for not attending. For almost all of them to be missing, something had to happen to them. He cast his gaze over at the court clerk, who shrugged, and indicated that he had no idea.

Dumbledore raised his wand for silence, and the room quickly obeyed.

"I call this emergency meeting of the Wizengamot to order! Under my authority as Chief Warlock, I convene the Wizengamot to discuss the repercussions of Lord Voldemort's return!"

There were shrieks and babble at his use of Tom's chosen name, but he managed to restore order with the sheer force of his personality.

"Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory were kidnapped last night during the Third task of the Tri-Wizard tournament. Someone, we do not yet know who, had altered the portkey in the center of the maze to send them far away, rather than to the winner's podium as I had specified. When they failed to arrive at the podium in good time, I rushed to my office to check the spells I had tied to Mr. Potter's health, as his magical guardian. They had all failed, indicating that Harry Potter is no more."

He paused to allow a low moan to pass through the assembled crowd. The loss of the Boy-Who-Lived would hit them hard, binding them all the more strongly to him once more.

"I immediately called the Aurors to investigate, but the portkey could not be tracked, and we are as of yet at a loss as to where it took those two brave lads. I did briefly hold onto hope that Mr. Diggory had survived, but as he was the embodiment of his house, he would never abandon a comrade, and so we must assume that both of them have passed.

"Through sources I had cultivated almost twenty years ago, I have learned that the Dark Mark has once again appeared, bringing itself to prominence where it was once faded. The disappearance of the boy who once vanquished him, coupled with this unsettling recurrence indicates but one thing – the return of Voldemort!"

Once more there were cries of terror, and this time he allowed the crowd to carry on for several minutes before allowing order to be restored.

"As much as it grieves me to act with unseemly haste in this solemn time, I ask your assistance here and now. The Potter Family has been the only one to stand against the Dark Lord successfully, and if we are to face him once more, we must find out by what magic they did so. As Harry Potter's magical guardian, it would be easiest to cede control of his vaults to me. Harry also filed an informal will to my care, and while it does leave some of his more sentimental possessions to his friends, he asks that I take care of the bulk of his estate, and use it for the betterment of magical Brittan."

There was some rumbling at this, but most of it with approval. Everyone liked an unselfish hero.

"Therefore, it is with a heavy heart that I call a vote, accepting Harry Potter's will and…"

"IF I may, before we proceed, I have a matter to bring to the courts regarding the events of last night!"

A confused babbling filled the air as Madame Amelia Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement took the floor. Inwardly, Dumbledore was seething at the interruption, but as he had called the Aurors, he had little choice but to accede to her request.

"Thank you, Chief Warlock. Before I proceed, I do, however need you as a witness, and so I officially ask you to temporarily step down, to enable you to take the stand."

"Is that truly necessary, Amelia?"

"It is proper procedure, Chief Warlock." Dumbledore sighed, knowing that she never deviated from proper procedure if she could avoid it, and he'd look petty if he refused. Even invoking her given name, a trick he used to make others feel infantile and foolish compared to him gave him no reprieve. So he stood, and made his way to the witness stand as Regent Longbottom was temporarily sworn in as Chief Witch.

"Last night, after my Aurors were called to Hogwarts to investigate the goings on around the Tri-Wizard tournament, which included the use of the Imperious curse on Viktor Krum, I was in my office sorting through the reports when I was contacted by St. Mungoes. They had a matter of some delicacy that kept me there all night, preventing me from filing my report until now."

Madame Bones took a breath, and Dumbledore had a terrible feeling welling up in his gut.

"In the early hours of this morning, two injured young men were dropped off at St. Mungoes by an unknown individual. They had been given effective field treatment for injuries, and were stable. I was called in because Cedric Diggory and Harry Potter turned up unconscious at the front doors of St. Mungoes with no explanation almost eight hours after they vanished."

The room filled with noise, but all Dumbledore could hear was trouble. If Harry Potter was alive, that complicated things tremendously. He could have sworn that Tom would have finished him off. How on earth did he survive?

"Mr. Diggory has several contusions and cuts, but nothing life-threatening. He was recovered by the time I arrived, but was being held pending his parent's arrival. Mr. Potter had a large cut on his right arm, had lost a dangerous, but not critical amount of blood, and had his scar split open, but that was not the worst of it."

Dumbledore suddenly remembered why he had kept Harry away from St. Mungoes in the past.

"Due to the nature of his injuries, they did a full medical scan. They found that he was suffering from chronic malnutrition, for almost his entire life. He had never had his inoculations, either muggle or magical. His arm had been broken and not tended to when he around eight years old, leaving it to heal on its own. He had an incredibly virulent poison circulating his veins, though he seems resistant to it, and finally, his magical core was under a bind that had been in place for over a decade."

The noise filling the hall went from confused to angry very quickly. Dumbledore checked to make sure he had his emergency portkeys at the ready.

"And so, Mr. Dumbledore, as you have reminded us earlier today, YOU are the magical guardian of Harry Potter. Which means that you are responsible for all of this. Mr. Dumbledore, I would like to hear your explanation."

"I'm sorry Amelia, but all of my actions regarding Mr. Potter have been for the Greater Good, and are covered under the auspice of the Chief Warlock, therefore I cannot answer you."

Amelia smiled a nasty smile. "You may be confused by the change of view, but you are not currently the Chief Warlock, and therefore cannot claim that protection." Dumbledore immediately lost his beatific expression. "I have asked you a question Mr. Dumbledore. Your answer determines if you are a witness, or a suspect."

Dumbledore sighed. "And with so much work left to do. Reykjavik." He said the word to activate his portkey to Miami quite calmly, and blinked. He could still see Amelia Bones standing in front of him. In fact, his portkey failed to do anything.

"Interesting trivia about the Ministry of Magic. There is a set of war wards that, among other things, completely prevent all portkey travel into and out of the building. They haven't been raised since 1982, but they seemed quite strong when I reactivated them this morning."

"FAWKES!" Perhaps it was a mistake to panic, but in his defense, Dumbledore hadn't been in a situation he lacked control of for almost a decade and a half, and even then, he'd been able to fight or bluff his way through. But his leaping to his feet and calling for his phoenix did him little good, as the familiar bust of fire failed to appear.

The familiar red light of a stunner, on the other hand, did.

* * *

Madame Bones cast a contemptuous glance at the unconscious Headmaster. "Albus Dumbledore, you are charged with child abuse, child neglect, grand larceny, line theft, resisting arrest and contempt of court."

Connie Hammer, her go to second-in-command when she didn't want to deal with Scrimgeour, piped up with a question. "Isn't he supposed to be awake when you charge him?"

"He is present, and the court transcript will show as much. As far as I'm concerned, justice is done."

As Hammer watched two other Aurors take him away, she wasn't quite finished speaking her mind. "Wasn't it a little superfluous charging him with contempt of court?"

"The senile old bastard should know better than to address me in such a familiar manner." No-one ever claimed that Amelia Bones was vindictive. At least not within her hearing.

Chief Witch Longbottom called for order. "If you are all finished…"

The room settled down, and the Chief Witch turned to the head of the DMLE. "Madame Bones, please continue with your report."

Inclining her head slightly, Madame Bones replied, "I have little more to report at this time. The two young men are alive and well, and they don't recall anything after touching the portkey until they woke up in St. Mungoes. We can't trace a portkey we don't have, and my investigators at Hogwarts have yet to finish and report."

Regent Augusta Longbottom nodded. "That being resolved, I would return to the original purpose of this meeting. Unfortunately, Mr. Dumbledore called the meeting, and with him being stripped of his title and arrested, we no longer have an agenda. I hereby motion to adjourn, and reconvene in one week's time to formally elect a new Chief Warlock or Witch. Motion to second?"

"Just a moment!" All heads turned to the mostly empty gallery, and looked on in shock as Jennifer Howe moved to the front, followed by two somberly dressed men, and a goblin carrying a carpetbag.

As she stepped onto the floor, a silent groan passed among the members of the Wizengamot. The middle-aged Witch was accompanied by her law partners, Mabry Screwum and Amarion Dewy, a group of notorious lawyers who took no prisoners. They were confused by the goblin, though.

"Ms. Howe, this is an emergency meeting, and as such, personal business has no place here." Augusta frowned at the impertinent woman.

"I have official notification of the deaths of the seventeen missing members of the Wizengamot, along with six other society members of high standing."

There was total silence for a moment followed by total bedlam. Aurors had to be called in to restore peace, and when a hush had once again fallen over the room, both Madame Bones and Chief Witch Longbottom were scowling at the trio.

"I am unaccustomed to inflammatory comments in this vein being uttered in these chambers!"

Ms. Howe was unruffled by the irate Chief Witch. "I did say official notification, did I not? I yield the floor to Goldmonger, as official representative of Gringotts inheritance department."

The goblin shuffled forward, placed his carpetbag on a table, and began removing scrolls from inside, each one with a cracked seal. "Many families use blood-sealed wills, allowing proof positive of death. I have here a list of the twenty-three families that use them which activated last night. These include Lords Malfoy, Carrow, Parkinson, Goyle, and Crabb, as well as several others. In fact, the tally includes everyone who pled that they were forced into the Dark Lord's service under the imperious curse."

Minister Fudge visibly paled at hearing of the death of his greatest donor, I mean friend, and many faces in the crowd showed either fear or elation at this news.

"I have here their wills, but unfortunately, they are worthless."

After recovering from her shock, Augusta sputtered out, "W-what? Why? All wills are verified before being filed!"

Ms. Howe once again took the floor. "They are worthless because they died at the end of a blood feud."

Taking the floor from his colleague, Amarion Dewy spoke up. "Eastertime, I had the privilege of delivering declaration of blood feud to this very chamber for all of the individuals concerned. I have here the copy of my paperwork, so you can verify it is all neat and legal." As he handed the parchment in question to the Chief Witch, Minister Fudge spoke up.

"You can't do that! Blood feud has to be declared face to face!"

"Or at a regular meeting of the Wizengamot, after being signed by two government representatives. It is, in fact, the fault of your government if the other parties involved were not informed, Minister Fudge. Why, that could leave you, personally, open to twenty-three wrongful death suits. That is, if there was any complaint over how this was handled." Fudge waved his hands in denial, not wishing to suffer the wrath of the families he'd inadvertently screwed over.

Mr. Screwum decided to finish the tale. "As you can see, the terms of the blood feud are simple: everything. All the money, the titles, the property, even the family name now belongs to our client, Mr. Joshua West. And before anyone complains that no-one can hold that many votes in this chamber, precedent was set in 1764 when one Lord Marbury held just under half of the votes, having won them in a game of cards. When he died, the titles were once again divided up, and a measure was passed that no individual could hold more than 32% of the votes, a measure that, with the three other votes he has recently inherited, Mr. West falls short of by 1. Thank you for your time, we'll take our leave."

And with that, the sharks in nice robes left the now stunned chamber behind.


	3. Chapter 3

Why Save only 9? Part III

I don't own the characters and settings in this story. Only the arrangement of ideas are mine.

* * *

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore sat unhappily in his cell. They had taken his portkeys, his wand, his backup wand, and even his magnificent robes, leaving him in an itchy grey robe that barely covered his knees. Normally, high society prisoners were offered certain amenities, but those who sass Madame Bones get the worst treatment.

He had been there for several days with no news, and he was growing nervous. He had sixteen contingency plans should he be caught and imprisoned; surely one of them should have succeeded by now! And what about Fawkes? Where was his faithful phonenix?

"You know, if you'd actually formed a familiar bond with that burning chicken of yours, you'd probably be gone by now. As it is, it was reasonably simple to break the compulsions you'd subjected him to by putting him through a burning day to get rid of the potions, and then unweaving them with this little stick I swiped from evidence. Don't worry, they'll never notice."

Dumbledore looked up to see a brown haired man of middling height standing in front of him, twirling the deathstick around as though it were a toy. The man had intense brown eyes, a slim build, and was wearing a muggle suit, marking him as very out of place.

"Who are you? What are you talking about? And why do you have my wand?"

The man smiled at Dumbledore, not a kind smile, but a predator's grin. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. It's not your wand anymore, you know the rules. And you can call me Joshua West."

Dumbledore was taken aback. He'd heard what had happened at the tail end of the Wizengamot meeting, but hadn't expected to meet the man who controlled a third of the vote face-to-face!

"You killed all those men! How could you? They were…"

Joshua interrupted. "Murderers all. Not only that, they came when their master called, no compulsion needed. Now they're dead, and their families have no resources to continue the evil they've done."

Dumbledore latched onto one phrase. "So he did return. You must help me escape! Only I have the knowledge and the power to defeat Voldemort! Quickly, while there is still time!"

Joshua laughed, a cold, cruel sound. "He did return. Briefly. He won't be doing that again."

"You don't understand! He's taken precautions! In order to vanquish him for good, Harry must die!"

The smile fell from Joshua's face. "Actually, Harry just needed someone with a working knowledge of soul magic to pull the fragment out of his scar. I shoved it into a plastic ring, if you must know. But I feel that you should know the entire story…"

The air grew hazy and Dumbledore felt as though he was being pulled into a pensive.

He looked around as the haze cleared, seeing he was in a graveyard. He recognized Peter Pettigrew fussing around a cauldron, before picking up a bundle and walking to an open patch of land. From the angle Dumbledore was standing, he could see an almost invisible line in the air, but before he could ask, Harry and Cedric arrived in a flash. The two boys conversed for a moment before Harry grabbed his head in pain, and Pettigrew cast the killing curse at Cedric. It looked like it made contact, and Cedric fell back, but from his observation point, Dumbledore could see the green spell hit the line and stop, while Cedric was stunned from behind. Then Harry was stunned as well, and dragged off.

"Plexiglas. Transparent normally, completely invisible after a few runes were added. It cut poor Cedric up a bit, but kept him alive." Dumbledore turned to see Joshua had accompanied him into this strange dream. "I performed a few healing charms on him, cast a sleeping hex on him to keep him from waking up at an inopportune time, and portkeyed him someplace safe."

Dumbledore was about to ask a question, but he heard Pettigrew begin an incantation over by the cauldron, and turned his attention back there. He saw as the bones of the father were added, making Joshua laugh, then Pettigrew cut off his own hand, and finally, he sliced into Harry's arm and added the blood. The cauldron bubbled, and out emerged Voldemort. But how changed he was. His brow was heavy, and thick jowls framed his face. His arms were long and dangling, and rather than the hairless serpent he had once been, he was covered in orange fur. The hideous specter turned to speak, but instead coughed, a wet, hacking noise that left him doubled over in agony. Joshua motioned to the statue where Harry was fighting for consciousness, and saw the ropes vanish, and Harry arrest his fall in mid air. A quiet stunner caught him, and he was moved from the scene.

"I may have replaced the bones of the father for this little ritual with something more entertaining, but it bought me enough time to force a blood replenishing potion down the boys throat, bandage the wound and send him to the same place I left Cedric. I know you must have questions, but they'll have to wait. Here comes the next part of this drama."

Voldemort had pulled himself up, summoned his servants through the dark mark, which Dumbledore had noticed on Severus, and stopped the bleeding on Pettigrew. It looked as though he'd tried for a more impressive spell, but his magic had failed. As the telltale pops of Apparition sounded, Dumbledore noted Pettigrew being stunned, transformed and vanished, along with Harry's wand. It was done so quietly that no one else had noticed.

The gathering of Death Eaters in their dark robes and masks shifted around nervously, glancing at their newly returned monster, I mean master. It looked as though Voldemort was about to speak when ear-splitting thunder rang out through the graveyard, and everyone vanished in a metallic cloud. It cleared almost instantly, showing the shredded and mangled bodies lying on the ground. Voldemort's spirit once again rose from his decimated corpse, and was about to fly away when a nimbus of yellow light surrounded it and pulled it into a crystal. A crystal being held by none other than Joshua West!

The Joshua West who had accompanied Dumbledore into the memory shrugged. "You can't honestly be surprised that I did all this. I admitted to killing them for the blood feud, and I told you what was going on here."

The Joshua in the memory put down the crystal containing the cursing spirit of the dark lord. "Just sit tight for a moment, I have a quick errand to do, and then I'll be right back." He vanished, leaving the crystal to swear in vain.

Dumbledore spoke up for the first time since entering the memory. "You knew how this would happen. You had the plexi-shield directly in front of Cedric and the killing curse, close enough that he almost ran into it. You disrupted the ritual, meaning you already knew the ritual. You stole away Harry and Pettigrew at the exact right moments. You're a seer!"

Joshua smirked at him. "Close, very very close, but so very wrong. I'm not a seer. I've just been here before."

Dumbledore furrowed his brow for a moment, and then looked at him with eyes wide. "But you can't change the past with time travel!"

"Sure you can. You just have to use a different type."

Before Dumbledore could question further, memory Joshua returned and picked up the crystal. He was holding a small, blue plastic ring.

"Now, Voldie-Tom, do you mind if I call you that? Well, I suppose I don't really care if you mind. So, Voldie-Tom, you've been a bad boy, and done some very bad things, but tonight I'm clipping your wings." As he talked, he was wandering down the hill, towards a small shack. "Like Icarus, you've flown too close to the sun, and now you can fly no more."

"I am Voldemort! I am immortal!" the crystal wailed.

"Technically true, but not for much longer." They arrived in front of the shack, and Joshua waved his wand. A bag appeared, which he left at his feet.

"First off, there is something in here that I will need. Now, this could be tricky as it's warded to high heaven, as you know, but I don't actually need to get my hands on it. I just need to destroy it." One wave of his wand and the shack burst into flame, consumed by mythical beasts. They tried to spread and escape, but his force of will held them back.

After a few minutes, a scream issued forth from the shack, one echoed by the crystal.

"The Gaunt ring, done." Joshua tossed the blue plastic toy into the flames. "Involuntary fragment from the scar of Harry Potter, done." He pulled out a dazzling tiara from the sack. "Ravenclaw's hair band." A wondrous golden chalice. "Hufflepuff's beer mug."

"Harry already dealt with Tommy boy's diary, and thanks to Regulus' betrayal, Slytherin's choker is gone, and your snake got caught in my party favours earlier. Still think you're immortal, Voldie-Tom?"

"No, no, this is impossible! How could you have known?" screeched the crystal.

"It almost felt like deja-vu. Bye Voldie-Tom. I no more outrunning death."

Memory Joshua pitched the crystal into the flames, and smiled as an unearthly scream emerged.

Once again a haze arose, and when it receded, Dumbledore found himself back in his cell.

"In case you were wondering about how I collected the rest, Kreatchur of House Black had the necklace, I helped him destroy it. The diadem was hidden in Hogwarts, I snuck in during the First task, and the chalice was in Bellatrix Lestrange's vault. That one was tricky. Luckily, she agreed to make me her heir when I visited Azkaban with chocolate, blankets and firewhiskey. As a matter of fact, all of the death eaters still there agreed to the same. It was a shame that they got sick and died about a month later."

"You killed all those people, people who could have reformed once Voldemort was vanquished, people who…"

"Represented some really old pureblood families? Yeah, I believe in forgiveness. But only if they repent. Plus, getting rid of Voldie-Tom was only half of the equation. The other half is you."

Dumbledore straightened up and looked Joshua dead in the eye. "So be it. If I am to die at the hands of a coward, I'll not turn away in fear."

Joshua paused for a moment before falling down laughing.

"What-why are you laughing?" Dumbledore was puzzled.

Joshua wiped his eyes. "I'm not going to kill you, I'm going to kill your power. First your wand, then your phoenix, and finally your reputation. Those who worship at the feet of Dumbledore are in for a rude awakening once a certain reporter finishes her book. I sent her over to Bathilda Bagshot for an interview, and I may have told your brother about the book as well. He was more than eager to tarnish your shine. I don't think he likes you very much. Oh, and there's a certain prison in Germany that holds only one prisoner that I visited, and Rita flipped over the notes I took."

Dumbledore collapsed like a puppet with his strings cut. "Why?" he croaked weakly. "Why do this to me?"

"Because of all the evil you've done for your damned greater good. Now Harry can grow up with a godfather who loves him. Now all the students of Hogwarts can live without the fear of war. Now the worst of the blood purists have no money to afford schooling, and won't spread their poisoned ideas around. Now your damned spy will have to flee or face charges for what he's done."

Dumbledore looked ashen, but forced the question out. "Who are you?"

"It doesn't matter. This body was attacked by a dementor, they sometimes cross the North Sea to feed. He was left for dead, brain and body still working, but soul gone. If you time travel with your body, then you can't change anything. But if you only send your soul, not only can you travel farther back, you can be in the right place at the right time to prevent something from happening. Some theorized that you could inhabit your younger body, but that's killing your younger soul as well. I needed a body without a soul, and I found one."

Joshua gave Dumbledore a cruel glare. "You're finished, old man. I have one last errand to return the deathstick to its rightful owner, along with his stone, and then I'm done. Everything I've been striving to accomplish will be complete."

"You've ruined me."

"You ruined yourself. I just pointed it out to the world. May you suffer for a very long time, Dumbledore."

And with that, Joshua left.


End file.
